


would it really kill you if we kissed?

by hickeylou (sowearegay)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sowearegay/pseuds/hickeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis hums, bringing a finger up to twirl in one of his strands of hair coyly. "You gotta name, Curly?" </p><p>"Harry." He says, snickering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	would it really kill you if we kissed?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laulaulou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laulaulou/gifts).



> Laulaulou, I hope you don't mind that I took a bit of a spin on your request, because at first I tried to start it off exactly as you'd requested but after 10k+ words and a whole lot of months, I scrapped it. Either way, I hope you enjoy this version and hope you feel your request has been done justice! 
> 
> _Huge_ thanks to Sharavi who was there for me since the beginning (and who I feel terribly bad for for scrapping the all the words she spent her dear time editing ): ) and to H/Z who came as a savior in the end and (unknowingly) convinced me to stay apart of the exchange when I was a hair away from dropping. Hope you enjoy it x
> 
> i feel like there's a whole lot of _this_ and for that i'm sorry

Louis' not the promiscuous type, he swears, tonight's just— _different_. 

It's hot in the room and Louis' not sure what he should blame, though the overwhelming amount of people around him seems to be a good bet. Louis doesn't think that's it, though, anger bubbling up in his stomach as his eyes trail down to the one last person he wanted to see tonight—or one last person he wanted to see if he wasn't pressing his cock up against Louis' bum—in it, even. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing in on him; on that stupid fucking quiff of long hair that doesn't even look good and it irritates Louis to think of how many times he's told him that, how many more times he has to before Nick finally  _gets_ it.

And that's when it sets in some more: they're not even fucking  _together_ anymore.

By Louis' conscious decision, of course, he knows that. And sue him, really, for being bitter over the fact that he  _lived_ for breaking boy's hearts—the jerk ones, at least—and that, when breaking up with Nick, he hadn't expected the bloke to go running off with the hottest piece of ass he could find, only  _hours_ later. Not even  _days_. 

He glares hard when he thinks about it, remembering that night Nick picked  _Louis_ up, and he should've expected this, really; Louis Tomlinson, to Nick Grimshaw, was nothing more than a good lay. Even after two months, the only way the stood each other was by fucking everyday, or every time they were about to have a row. But, shit, Louis thought that at least his  _ass_ was something Nick might bat a tearful eye over, a  _sniffle_ at the very least, because Louis' not tall but he knows his power with other areas of his body. His ass? Fucking top gun. And the blonde grabby-hands kid Nick's got his hands on now hasn't even got anything to ogle over. Louis wants to laugh, but he snarls instead, absolutely disgusted.

Not jealous, disgusted. He feels pity for Nick, honestly. He'll miss Louis, you take his word for it, Nick fucking Grimshaw is going to regret the day he didn't get on his hands and knees and fucking  _beg_ for Louis to stay.  

They've been staring at each other for a while now, him and Nick, and Louis almost feels bad for the other bloke he's groping, positive that by the end of the night they'll end up angry fucking in one of rooms of the place, spend just enough time getting each other off that when Louis pushes Nick's kiss away or leaves him with a smirk and never talks to him again, deletes his contact but doesn't block his number because he wants to see him desperate for him— _just_ long enough to make Nick remember what he's missing with Louis out of the picture. 

But then Nick starts getting handsy, starts feeling up the boy's sides, squeezing his—arse? Is that an arse? Louis doesn't note anything remarkable about it, can hardly see it if he doesn't squint his eyes a bit. At least you could see  _Louis_ ' bum from twenty feet away. And Louis feels himself getting hot, not with arousal but with anger, feels it heating up his cheeks and the tops of his ears as he watches the two getting it on still in their clothes, Nick's eyes never straying from Louis'. God, Louis thinks, at least when  _he_ was with Nick he was always sober enough to convince him that they needed a  _room_. 

Louis' hand tightens around his beer, takes a calm moment to realize and be glad that he'd opted to keep his beer in the glass rather than the plastic cup he'd been offered, positive that he'd have split it out of his anger, beer pouring out the cracks and spilling everywhere.

His nostrils flare involuntarily and his grip just gets tighter and tighter around the bottle, almost like he  _wants_  it to break, like he wants shattered glass everywhere, wants to ruin the entire fucking party just to ruin  _Nick's_  night even though he knows glass on the floor won't stop anyone.

Louis' going to get up, he thinks, yeah, get right the fuck up and storm over there and just slap Nick, leave him looking like cheating scum even though they're  _over_. God,  _Louis_  broke up with him but damnit he wasn't expecting  _this_ , wasn't expecting to be fucking forgotten about or treated as if he meant  _nothing_. 

I mean, if nothing else, come  _on_ ; Louis was a good fucking lay, a minx  _anyone_  should be sad about losing, at  _least_  in the slightest.

And, that's it. In a rush of emotions Louis builds up the courage to swing his legs off the stool with a mumbled, " _That_ fucking  _bastard_ ," and he's just—he's going to go over there and shove Nick around and  _remind_  him of what he lost, and he's just so  _angry_. But, he's only just stepped off the stool when he's stumbling back into the counter with a gasp, lanky legs walking into his clumsily, shifting his ass half on the marble in an attempt to keep him from falling and all Louis sees anymore is a broad chest with weirdly perky nipples hidden beneath a white t-shirt, big; feels big, wide hands at his hips and his anger is entirely redirected. 

"Fuck, fuck, are you alright?" It's a gruffy voice, with that edge to it that's only barely there because all the words are slurred. Though, listening to it, Louis' not sure that the mate being drunk made any difference, figured he spoke in slurred letters completely sober, and that annoyed Louis for no right reason at all (and it's a really fucking lovely voice honest). Louis looks up and he's angry, face red, tops of his ears hot, but he's immediately caught by the green eyes staring back at him and the small, charming little smile that accompanies them. And the boy bites his lip, curls framing his face with perfect lips and a perfect nose— _God_ , who was Louis turning  _into_?—and his perfect smile, arm slipping around Louis' waist as if it's totally okay for a stranger to wrap his arms around you, around your  _waist_  more accurately, just above your  _bum_ , curved around perfectly like it just  _fit_ —coaxing him off the counter and plopping him back onto the stool.

And Louis should be angry, should be shoving him off and telling him a few things he ought to know, but all he  _actually_  does is furrow his brows up at him, absolutely confused. He follows the touch easily, actually, curving into it. And, maybe Louis' a little drunk, or high off jealousy, or both. Louis huffs, wiggling himself off it though he only stares once he's set firmly on his feet, flinching back when he sees the lad's hand coming out towards him, still on edge and glaring. Louis might've even been growling.  

But the kid almost doesn't seem fazed by Louis' reaction, biting his lip as he smirks down at Louis—like, like Louis' reaction was  _amusing_ , and if Louis wasn't stuck in some kind of angry awe at the boy, he might punch him. But But the curly haired kid brings his hand up to Louis' cheek, thumbs at a spot of alcohol that Louis hadn't even known was there, or got spilled there, apparently, because his thumb trails down Louis' cheek and neck, letting out a small, " _Oops_ ," and a giggle as he brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks on it with a snigger. 

Louis'—too drunk for this, probably, because he'd completely subdued—the anger, the jealousy—and this kid is too fit for  _Louis_ ' own good, probably, because all he can come up with is, "Hi," and over his shoulder he catches Nick's eye, angry on him, jealous, even, and Louis swallows to fight a smirk because, well, good. He turns back, smiling up at the kid, and the reason for Louis' hitting on him may or may not be genuine.

" _Hi_ ," he lets out slowly, coyly. "'m Louis."

He receives a look in response that seems like the bloke wasn't expecting  _that_  reaction, cocking a brow down at Louis, smirking and seeming almost impressed. "I've spilled my drink on you." 

Louis snickers, cocking a brow right back. "Should've licked it off." The boy licks his lips over an impressed smirk that Louis knows not what to make of it other than  _this is going good_.

"Think I left a spot right there," he says to Louis, cocking a brow as if in question, asking permission and nodding at the base of Louis' neck, the little dip of his right collar bone. He leans in only after a moment, lips parted taking the lack of a negative response from Louis as his cue.

It's a quick enough action that Louis doesn't have a chance to react other than to let out a gasp, swallowing thickly and leaning back just the slightest, consequently baring his neck. He feels the stranger's tongue on his skin, feels the warm and wet tough of it flat within the little dip of his collar bone that's only made deeper with his gasp, and the lad doesn't seem in a rush, licking straight across the entirety of Louis' bone even though they both know it was only a drop, but Louis isn't arguing. 

Out of pure reaction, Louis' hands come up to the lad's shoulders and he's pulled closer to him by the arm around his waist, letting out a shaky breath when he feels teeth scraping, lips parting wider as Louis lets out the dearest choke of a gasp, but the touch is gone all too fast and Louis' lets out a little whine before he can stop himself. 

"All clean, now," Gets pressed against his lips in a clumsy, breathy mash of a kiss that Louis' not expecting, pressing into the kiss with furrowed brows and a half wrinkled nose out of surprise, tangling his hands in the bloke's hair before he pulls away just enough to let out a soft chuckle. 

"Still got my shirt all wet." He says in a breath, leaning up into the kiss, and, his  _lips_ —God, they were soft on his skin but they feel even softer against Louis' own, warm and smooth and slotted perfectly between Louis'. 

He feels the grin from where they're pressed, leans into the touch of the lad's hands slipping beneath his shirt, fingers pressing against his soft pudge as his tongue flicks out against Louis' amusingly, teasingly. "I can help you with that."

And Louis laughs, their teeth clacking together awkwardly as he does so. He bites the bloke's lip in recovery, "Could've just told me you wanted my shirt off," Louis rasps out, biting his lip showingly, "Would've minded much less than you spilling your drink on me..but then that gives us an actual reason, doesn't it? To get naked." He says, daringly, but then there's a tongue slicking over Louis' teeth, lips sucking at his tongue and Louis isn't given a chance to regret his words—not that he would—before the mate pulls away entirely, grinning and letting his hands slide further up the hot skin of Louis' body beneath his shirt, eliciting a senseless gasp and a blush.

"I want your shirt off." He parrots with a smirk that makes Louis' heart turn, and Louis can't fight the embarrassed smile that upturns his lips.

Louis hums, bringing a finger up to twirl in one of his strands of hair coyly. "You gotta name, Curly?" 

"Harry." He answers, snickering.

Louis smirks, pressing a finger against Harry's chest and leaning up and close, lips brushing. "You gonna do something about the mess you've made of me, then, _Harry_?"

"'ve got a room here," he says, but he makes no move on the comment, kissing across Louis' jaw and down his neck. They're soft little things that make him shiver, plush and warm with just a hint of wet, and Louis bares his neck willingly. He hadn't known he let his eyes shut until he opens them up on Nick, and, God, _Nick_ —he'd already forgotten, but now Louis simply doesn't care. His lips quirk up in a smirk anyway, rolling his head further to the side so Harry can have all the skin he wants and the lad doesn't choke on the offer, biting a bit of Louis' skin before sucking at it. 

Louis' eyes stay on Nick's as he lets out an exaggerated moan, one he knows Nick won't hear but makes himself feel good anyway, and Louis feels _amazing_. He's glad he's got Nick angry, now, because fuck him, and for a moment he all but forgets about _Harry_ until his arms are wrapping tight around his back and yanking Louis straight against him, Louis' legs spreading around his waist easily. 

The boy chokes on a gasp but Harry's kissing it away and immediately Louis forgets about Nick, panting into the kiss as their tongues slick together and Louis lets his eyes fall shut, biting on Harry's lip to hold back a moan as Harry feels him up, grinds against him subtly and lets his hands roam all up his torso as if it's _his_ , as if he _owns_ it. "We can't—" Louis says, gasping sharply when Harry presses a hand over Louis firmly. His ears turn red as he fights to hold back a whimper, brows furrowing with the effort. "We can't very well fuck right here," he tries, but Louis can't say, honestly, that he'd be opposed, though he chocks it up to his drunken desperation.

"Yeah? Well, what if I wanted you on your knees for me, right here?" Harry asks, just as daring as Louis earlier, pulling away with Louis' lip between his teeth before letting it snap back, leaning in and soothing over it with his tongue. "Would that be a deal breaker?" Harry wouldn't, he wouldn't ask, but he wants to know.

Louis swallows thickly, meeting Harry's eyes calculatingly innocent, brushing the side of their noses together, the tip of it over Harry's cheek before his lips meet the shell of his ear, whispering, "I'd do it, hands behind my back and just let you fuck my face like that. You gotta thing for being dominant?" 

"You've got me hard." Harry says, bluntly, fingers digging into Louis' hips. He almost wants to laugh at how blatantly off-turning the comment is and, if he were a worse person—or less desperate, more accurately—he would've.

Instead, he flicks his tongue against Harry's earlobe, kissing it, "You've gotta get me out of this shirt."

"I've gotta get my cock in you," Is Harry's retort, and Louis shoves him away with a stupid grin and small crinkles at the corners of his eyes, shaking his head. 

"You've gotta stop trying to talk dirty, you're honestly turning me off." He laughs, biting his lip and batting his lashes up at Harry innocently when he notices he's pouting, pinching his cheek and then giving it a peck as he hops off the stool. "Your room upstairs, then?" 

Harry nods and gets an arm around Louis, kissing him hard, having to lean down now that they were both standing, and Louis' surprised by it, eyes open as he kisses back softly, brows furrowed as his thoughts come about him, because he's only known him for ten minutes but it quickly became obvious that he really enjoyed kissing—or maybe was good enough at it the Harry wanted more, and don't mind Louis if he prides himself on the silly notion. 

They make it upstairs, somehow, and Louis thinks he saw Nick leaving, but he doesn't quite care because Harry had his hands on Louis' ass and his tummy and in his hair and on his jaw and his lips and tongue tasting his mouth like he could never get enough and there's a slight, crave-able burning bitterness to the alcohol on Harry's breath and Louis thinks he's drunk off it, if not addicted. 

When they get to the room, surprisingly, no one's there, but Louis assumes it's because Harry must have it set up that way, that everyone should remember that his room is his own to bring whoever _he'd_ like to in it, not walk in on others shagging on his bed. Louis only gets a split second to catch his breath as Harry shuts the door before he's pressing their lips together again and Louis pushes him away with a moan, shaking his head.

"You gonna get me out of my shirt or was that just a ploy?" He asks, corner of his lip turning up teasingly because who the fuck _cares_ about his damn shirt. Harry finds it amusing, apparently, grinning wide and grabbing at the hem of Louis' soiled shirt before tugging it off him, licking his lips and biting as he surveys the boy's bare skin with total shamelessness, tossing the shirt aside. Louis' not insecure, but he feels scrutinized, but Harry's eyes are wide in wonderment and Louis likes the thought of that, proud of his tan at the very least. 

Harry bites his lip and Louis out a short breath, searching Harry's staring eyes and pressing himself further against the door when Harry brings his hand up. Harry doesn't seem to notice the reaction and Louis doesn't know what to make of it until he feels Harry's thumb pressing at the corner of his collarbone, swiping delicately across his chest in a curved line until his thumb presses against the end of his other bone, and Louis' breaths are shaky. He shivers at the touch, eyes fluttering shut; Harry's half-calloused thumb against his skin, pressing into his collarbones feels euphoric, like anything Harry could do to him would feel euphoric, but the touch is turned bigger, wider, and Louis opens his eyes onto Harry staring at him, hand flattened out against his chest, subtle and warm, and Louis just wants them everywhere. 

Harry licks his lips. "If I didn't wanna fuck you, I'd ask to cum on that, on you. Right there." He says, eyes wide and honest as he presses his finger in the little dip between Louis' collarbones. Louis bites his lip, because his tattoo has never done _that_ to anyone, never done anything of the sort for even himself other than remind him morning after morning that _it is what it is_ , truly. And Louis understands for a moment that he's fucked, he's entirely fucked, because it's been a minute but Louis feels deprived that Harry hasn't got his lips on him, his tongue on his mouth and skin.

His eyes flick to Harry's lips and he watches as a grin forms, meeting Harry's gaze as he speaks. "What if I wanted you to?" Louis asks quietly, voice thick and scratched. 

Harry huffs a small laugh, bringing his fingers up to pinch at Louis' chin and tilt his head up towards him, and Louis feels very small, suddenly, Harry having to look down at him just to meet eyes, lean down just to brush their lips together with a smirk, a teasing peck Harry takes his lips from but doesn't move far enough, breath fanning over Louis' lips. "I wouldn't be opposed." 

Louis smirks, holding back a shiver because that shouldn't be as hot as it really is, biting his lip as he lets his hands roam beneath Harry's shirt, now, skim at the toned skin of his waist with a small but impressed gasp. "Gonna show me that pretty skin of yours, too, or you gonna leave me hanging?" Louis hummed, scratching blunt nails across the small, barely noticeable, but very much present ripples of Harry's stomach, and Louis thinks—theoretically, of course, that Harry was fit enough for the both of them; that, if they dated, Louis wouldn't mind treating him well for it in doubled doses. Maybe just after he's come home from the gym all sweaty and Louis' just finished himself some crisps.

Harry snickers, crossing his arms and tugging the light material off, tossing it to the side and looking to Louis for a reaction, though it doesn't seem he's all that worried. Louis licks his lip as he examines, scratching softly at his sides and biting his lip as he leans forward, placing a wet, open mouthed kiss just between Harry's small pecks, warm and defined, pulling away with a coy smile, hand flattened out against Harry's chest. "You know, if I _rode_ you," he says, smirking and flicking his tongue out before pressing a sweet kiss to the spot followed by a finger, copying Harry's actions earlier, "I'd cum on you, right there, wouldn't even ask." He breathes out.

Harry's reaction is easy and it makes pride swell up in Louis' chest; a groan and a bitten lip, fingers pressing into the pudge of Louis' hips, eliciting a gasp from the boy as he curves up into the touch. "Yeah?" Harry breathes, leaning down and nudging heir noses together teasingly, but Louis turns away with a small smile and a blush when Harry tries to kiss him, blood and racing heart _screaming_ for him to turn and kiss Harry back until he can't _breathe_ , long enough that his vision goes blurry with the lack of oxygen and the overdose of _Harry_. 

Louis shakes his head, lets his fingers slip beneath the band of Harry's jeans with a coy smile, bumping noses innocently and sighing sweetly. "Bet you've gotta pretty cock," Louis says, letting his fingers slip further beneath, brushing at his cock over his briefs. 

Harry hums, touching the tip of his nose against Louis' cheek, trailing it down beneath his jaw and pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the skin there. Louis lets out a small breath, unable to contain himself, eyes fluttering shut as goosebumps raise on his skin, letting out a soft sigh. Harry brings his thumb to brush over Louis' cheek and he bites his lip, meeting Harry's eyes in the dark room, waiting for his words—whatever he's going to say next, Louis' going to cave. "Bet you'll look pretty sucking it."

Louis grins, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip and cocking a brow. "You gonna help me with it, big boy?"

And, God. Harry's eyes widen on him, blushing and laughing all at once. "We're not in some cheesy porno, fuck, just suck my cock." He chuckles, pressing Louis against the door with a hard kiss, grabbing at Louis' crotch. Louis lets out a quiet moan, lips parting but Harry swallows the sound with his tongue before pulling away with a smirk.

Louis smirks, hands pressing Harry away by his stomach and sinking to his knees before Harry can say anything about it, flicking his fringe out of his face. "You wish we were," he says, grinning and working on the button of Harry's jeans off, kissing the line of his waist goofily, grinning up at him. "Wish you could just toss me around and use me, hear me moan all loud as if you were fucking me just _that_ well."

Harry raises a brow, bringing a hand to Louis' hair and tugging softly. "Yeah? Figure I can do all those things without being in some low production adult video." He grins, shoving his hips in Louis' face playfully as he works on the zipper. 

Louis looks up at him half-irritated with a threatening, "I'll bite your dick, I'll fucking do it," hiss, rolling his eyes, "And I'll have you know, in all my years I've only met one mate who could fuck me good, doubt you can live up to him." He growls. 

Out of spite, Louis tears Harry's pants down his legs—actually hears the tearing of a seam or two, proudly. And, Harry's cock is a fucking sight to see. He licks his lips, reaching a hand over and biting back a moan as he gets a feel for it; hard, thick, and welcoming, if a penis can be welcoming, and Louis wants it down his throat. Louis tugs at it, staring in awe at the pink head, leaning forward and lapping up the small drop of precum that oozes out invitingly, batting his eyes up at Harry innocently. He snickers, as if he's not one bit fazed, but Louis wants Harry to use him. 

"Mm, big boy, I was right, got such a pretty dick, bet it'd look so nice in my tight little hole, hm?" Louis tries not to gag at his words as they leave his lips, because he can't believe he's actually saying them, but he's gotta take the piss on Harry before he falls too in love with his dick that he does anything he's told. Nick's was so, was so  _ugly_  he can't believe he even stayed with him for so long. But,  _Harry's_. Louis licks his lips, leans back in and pokes his tongue out against his slit. "Anything you want from me?" He hums, lapping against it lazy. 

Harry smirks, winking down at Louis and rolling his hips up subtly. "Doubt me still?"

And, that's not the answer Louis was looking for. He gives him a narrowed glare. "We'll see what you can do with it."

Harry shrugs, "Just stop saying lines from porno's."

"Oh, but _baby_ , I haven't had a good fucking in so long, need to be reminded what it's like to be fucked by a _real_ man." Louis mocks, pulling his best pout as he finally wraps his lips around the head of Harry's dick, pleased at the gasp he elicits from Harry, watching as he eyes flutter in pleasure, feeling how his hand tightens in his hair without thought. 

"Fuck, you're turning me off," Harry hisses. 

Louis pops off, rolling his eyes and grinning, tugging Harry off lazily, trying not to think about it _in_ him, trying not to blush at how small and effeminate it makes his hands seem with its girth and length, but Louis can't help himself. "Doesn't seem like it." He teases, swirling his tongue around the head teasingly. He grins, bringing his hands up to play at Harry's thighs, scraping at the sparse hair between them, acting coy as he noses against his cock. "You wanna be in a porno with me." He insists.

"I wanna fuck your face," is Harry's retort.

Louis pretends not to hear it, pouting. "You wanna call me names like 'good boy' and tell me how tight my hole is around your big, thick cock,"

Harry licks his lips, "Can I fuck your face?"

" _Ooh, daddy_ ," Louis moans instead, high-pitched and exaggerated. He cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes snapping wide when he feels Harry's fingers pinching at his chin and coaxing his head up to look at him, and Harry's staring back down with eyes looking for a serious answer, but instead of asking anything Louis feels Harry's thumb brush at his bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it snap back into place. Harry gets a hand around his cock and Louis swallows thickly. 

"Open," he says, not harshly, but Louis knows it's not a question. Louis bites his lip, looking at Harry through his lashes and opening his mouth easily, tongue hung out. 

"Am I gonna be able to speak tomorrow?" He asks, tilting his head back and opening his lips obediently, rolling his tongue out and looking at Harry through his lashes. 

Harry grins, cocking a brow at Louis. "You wanna be able to?" He asks, bringing his cock forward and onto Louis' tongue, brushing over his lips. 

Louis blinks up at him, letting out a shaky breath and a smirk, shaking his head. "I'd rather not, no," he says, fingers digging into Harry's thighs as he wraps his lips around him. "Now go on, fuck my mouth. I want it." Louis leaves his mouth open as Harry presses his cock into it not at all leisurely, smiling when Louis gags, eyes widening as he works to fit around Harry, tearing up just a bit, closing his mouth and sucking when Harry taps his chin. He doesn't move and Louis' brows furrow as he tries to swallow around Harry's girth, but Harry only smiles down at him, brushing a thumb against the prominent bone on Louis' cheek, another back into his hair coaxing him further down his cock with a small, pleased moan. 

"I was right," Harry mimics, "You do look pretty with my cock in your mouth." Louis barely has time to react before Harry's pulling his hips back, snapping them forward as if he's fucking Louis and not his mouth, but somewhere in his heart Louis feels flattered, making quiet gagging sounds as Harry slides into his throat, just enough that Louis can really feel him there, fingers digging into Harry's thighs as he takes ragged breaths through his nose as squeezes his eyes tight, tears pressing at the corner of his eyes. 

Before he knows it, Harry's pulling away from him and Louis' eyes open as he splutters out, coughs and looks up at Harry in question. "Why'd you _stop_?" He croaks, and, fuck.

"You need to breathe?" Harry asks, and he seems genuinely concerned but Louis genuinely couldn't care less. He shakes his head, swallowing and knee closer to Harry again, panting softly. 

"Tug my hair," he demands, brokenly, "Tug my hair and, you're so damn big, Harry, wanna feel you lose control, c'mon," he insists, "Wanna wake up tomorrow and remember how I was on my knees for you every time I try to walk or talk, c'mon don't just be another lay. Make me take your fucking cock." Louis growls, half frustrated because it was a one night stand, Harry wasn't supposed to fucking care and Louis honestly didn't want him to. "Then you can fuck me into the mattress, can fucking have me twice—three times, if you want." Louis urges, straightening himself out and holding back a wince because his knees already hurt from the wood, and before Louis can say much else he feels Harry pressing past his lips, meeting his gaze approvingly, letting out a moan, relieved, finally, to be getting what he wanted. 

"You like being owned, don't you?" Harry asks, face cool as he bites his lips and takes Louis' suggestion, tugs the hair at the back of his head until it's tilted up and Louis' forced to meet his eyes, whimpering. "A little cockslut?" He says observantly.

Louis nods as best as he can with a mouth full of Harry, hallowing his cheeks and grabbing at his thighs again, meeting each of Harry's now quick thrusts with a short bob until Harry tugs at his hair a bit harder, holds Louis in place and begins rolling his hips forward with a smirk that has Louis moaning, cock twitching, eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself be immersed in the feeling of being used in the way that he is, immersed in the feeling of Harry's cutting off his air, his hands in his hair making him take more and more. 

Harry's, just— _so_ big, and Louis whimpers as Harry tugs his hair, jeans getting wet over his crotch as his brows furrowed out of undeniable pleasure. He digs his fingers into Harry's legs, squeezes his eyes tight and works to fit himself down Harry's entire length. Harry gasps, his own eyes shutting as Louis nuzzles himself all the way down, whining because he just wants to stay there, wants Harry to cum down his throat just like that, but he knows Harry needed more than that. 

" _Fuck_ ," Harry curses, hand tightening in Louis' hair as he bites into his lip hard, tilts Louis' head up as much as he can manage and holding him there as he slides out of his mouth. Louis doesn't look affected, eyes on Harry's cock and leaning forward acting as if Harry was only trying to tease him, tongue poking out and flicking against Harry's head, eliciting a hiss of " _Louis_ ,"

Harry tugs on Louis' hair and Louis gasps, meeting his eyes. Harry groans, squeezing at the base of his cock and trying to nudge Louis up, grabbing him by his arm and pressing him hard against the door with a kiss that swallows Louis' whines. He can feel the pout, though, and Harry tries to kiss it away until he feels Louis' hands curling up into his hair and tugging, letting out a quiet moan as Louis takes the chance to pull away, panting. 

He shorter than Harry enough that his lips just barely manage to slot over Harry's lower one, just enough that he could bite it red and slick it wet with his tongue, but Louis' still trying to catch his breath from blowing him. He looks up at him with sincere, sad eyes and Harry returns it with a curious gaze, head tilting as he leans over and presses a kiss beneath the hinge of Louis' jaw, making him bit his lip, breathing, " _I wanna fuck you_ ," into his skin.

Harry presses his palm over Louis firmly, making him squirm and gasp. "I—I thought you wanted to fuck my face," he rasps out, pouting, "Wanted you to cum in my mouth, make me swallow it." Louis whines.  

Harry looks at him thoughtfully, but Louis can't make out what he's thinking and bites his lip. His eyes flutter when Harry leans over, expecting him to kiss him, but instead Louis is left gasping, eyes snapping open when Harry's hand slips into his jeans, lips pressing and sucking and licking at his neck, still. Louis' hand comes up to Harry's chest out of reaction, but with enough coherence he brings his other hand to Harry's cock, giving it a small squeeze. "I wanna feel you," Harry says slowly, biting Louis' skin lightly, licking over it and pressing a small kiss to it when Louis flinches, whimpers as his fingers press into Harry's shoulder. 

"Still wanna suck you off," Louis tries, breathless.

Harry chuckles, nosing up against Louis and meeting his gaze with that look in his eye that makes Louis' knees feel wobbly. "Next time." He says, promises, and Harry's kissing him before Louis can say anything about the fact that 'next time' wasn't a thing, and Louis' too lost in the way Harry's tongue brushes against his delicately while his hands slide down his back and grope at his ass roughly, fingers pressing into them, snuck beneath Louis' jeans and briefs. "You've got a nice arse." Harry says vulgarly, brushing the tip of his nose delicately against the side of Louis', and it almost sounds like a compliment to fawn over, heart fluttering. 

 Louis presses his lips against Harry's before he can notice his blush, fingers curling in his hair and tugging, pulling Harry closer and pressing his hips against Harry's, pulling away only to pant, "You gonna fuck me, then, or are you just gonna stand here and admire it?" 

"Both." Harry replies instantly, snickering and grabbing at Louis hard enough that he's left gasping and on the tips of his toes trying to get away from the touch and trying to get Harry to grab him hard all at once.

" _Harry_ ," he gasps, and eventually the touch is gone, but only because Harry's shoving his pants off him, kissing Louis messily and tugging him towards the bed with clumsy and rushed legs tangling.

And Harry's—strong. He's right fucking strong, grabbing Louis up with a frustrated grunt when they continue tripping over each other, tossing him on the mattress and climbing on just after. With hands at Louis' hips, pressing him against the mattress, Harry smirks, taking in the entirety of Louis' body, tongue darting out across his bottom lip before he bites it, coming back down and brushing his lips against Louis' with. "You've got a nice little body, babe," he says, and Louis holds back a whine, feeling terribly shy and annoyed with himself for it.

"C'mon, just fuck me already." He huffs, rolling his hips up. He gasps, feeling Harry's hand curl around his cock, and his eyes fall shut, only now realizing how much he'd been craving the touch. 

Harry rolls his eyes, squeezing Louis' cock as if in reprimand, cocking a brow. "When's the last time you were fucked?" 

Louis' eyes widen, brows furrowing on Harry, offended. "Don't think that's any of your business," he says harshly. 

"Lou, just tell me when." He says passively, face falling flat on Louis, passing on a non-verbal ' _really_?' that irks him to no end.

"This morning." He huffs with a glare. Harry's brows raise, but he smirks over it, humming and leaning over and reaching under his pillow. Louis' brows furrow in confusion, but when Harry pulls out a bottle of lube and makes a show of it to Louis, he rolls his eyes.

"Sex addict." He chuckles, smirking and kissing down Louis' body, nipping and sucking, hands feeling up Louis side. Louis scoffs.

"I'll have you know it was with my ex, and you're just my rebound." He says, rolling his eyes and urging Harry to go Louis, but the mate's persistent, eyes up to meet Louis' gaze as he sucks around the bottom of Louis' ribs just to spite him, and Louis gets a little irritated. "This is angry sex, is what this is." He growls. 

Harry pulls off, flattening his tongue against the bite. Louis holds back a shiver, whimpering just a little, face faltering because he'd _very_ much like to feel that tongue other places. "Right." Harry says, mockingly as he continues to kiss and lick all down Louis' torso, paying careful attention to marking up his skin, watching the way the goosebumps rise. It feels more domestic than it should, Louis thinks, and his hands find Harry's hair, tugging with a whine. "You're really fucking perfect," Harry says. Louis tries not to feel flattered, gasping when he finally getting to Louis' cock, flat and thick against his tummy, wet at the tip. He licks around it, pokes his tongue at the head and Louis tries not to squirm, huffing and shoving Harry down.

"God, could you just _fuck_ me already?" He groans, rolling his eyes, "Just get your fucking c- _ock_ in me, _fuck_ ," Louis chokes out, just a breath, stuttering when Harry wraps his lips around his head and presses two fingers into him at once, wet but obviously not from lube. Louis' muscles tense, letting out a loud groan as Harry's fingers press into him, long and reaching and easy. 

Harry hums, popping off and tugging Louis' cock in time with his fingers. "Gonna make sure you remember me." Harry smirks, shrugging after. "At least for a day, anyway. Since you'll probably have someone in the morning."

Louis glares over at him, nudging his knee up against Harry's ribs. "This is a one-night stand, you realize that?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yes, of course, poor desperate Louis could never hold onto a man for longer than a couple of hours for the sake of his sanity and the freedom of his dick." He says, scoffing. 

"Fuck you." Louis spits, and Harry smirks, licking around Louis' head lazily. 

"Will do."

 

 

The morning after is not particularly kind to Louis, and with Niall giving him a disapproving nod, Louis knows he's really fucked up. They make a pact; Niall will ween Louis off his party addiction and Louis will just be Louis, because Niall likes Louis and that's enough.

It's not two weeks later that Louis' at a party again—sue him—and it's not two hours after that that he's already heading to his dorm drunk, partially high, and tired. 

Parties, he's discovered, are just not all that anymore, but they're something to do on a Friday, Saturday night—as is studying, or hanging with a mate or two, but. It almost reminds him of the time his mum made him give up Dr. Pepper for a month, or urged him to, which he obliged to doing because he loves his mum. It's just never tasted the same after that, and Louis doesn't know whether he resents the decision or is glad for it. It's—soda. It's soda, and Louis' thinking too hard as he clumsily tries to shove the key in the jamb.

Eventually he gets it, as one would hope, and stumbles into the room laughing stupidly at himself for being so clumsy. He drops the key, evidently, and Louis lets the door slam shut as he backs up into it, eyes trailing to the person whose boot it slid to and hit, letting out a screech of some kind that he might be embarrassed of if he wasn't truly shocked, or scared. 

"And who the _fuck_ are you?" He gets out, brows furrowed and shocked, eyes trailing back down to the gold boots, wandering up the sparsely hairy—and bare—legs they're fit onto, the briefs that are all too tight to leave much to imagination, "And why the _fuck_ haven't you got clothes on?" He demands, but letting his eyes trail again Louis vaguely remembers the tattoos that are littered about his skin, blinks in confusion and tries to figure out just from _where_ he remembers them.

"I'm sorry I thought this was my room—"

"Didn't we fuck?" They blurt at the same time. Harry's eyes widen and Louis blushes but shakes his head, huffing and physically stomping his foot because he's drunk and acting stupid. "This is just—I'm not into stalkers, mate, get the fuck out before I call campus police." Louis threatens, reddening with anger as..as _Harry_ just stares at him, like he's not heard what he's obviously just heard Louis tell him. 

"No, I. I honestly thought this was my room and I just wanted to.." Harry tries, brows furrowing as he tries to come up with something coherent to say, but nothing's coming out and Louis' angry. 

"Get the fuck _out_!" He shouts, really shouts this time, because Harry's just being so damn annoying, and how the fuck did he even find out Louis' dorm number anyway? He's about to say it again, maybe even walk out, slam the door, and actually find some campus police to get Harry out of his room because, wherever Niall is, he's not here and Louis' rather small and Harry's rather big and this simply isn't safe. 

But, as he opens his mouth to curse at him, he sees Harry's eyes watery upon him, cheeks flamed and biting his lip, and, "Oh _shit._ " He says, cursing himself as he watches Harry start to fucking _cry_ in front of him, and he rushes over, albeit a little cautiously, as the boy's shoulders shake with his sobs. "Harry, no, c'mon, I'm sorry fuck.

"I—I just thought, I. This is my room, but it's not, it's _yours_ and it's fucking messy and I don't even know who you are and I," He chokes out in rambles, and Louis just a step close to wrapping his arms around him until he steps back, trying not to act pettily offended.

"I'm sorry, what?" Louis asks, scoffing. 

Harry wipes his tears, looking at Louis as if he's the one at fault, angry and confused and so obviously drunk and offended, if you'll believe it. "I'm—I'm taking a nap." He states firmly, glaring at Louis through his tears and choking out sobs as he tries to breathe. And the fucker just climbs into Louis' bed, turns around lifts the sheets and cuddles himself in, boots and all, croaking out a—really rather comical sounding—" _Goodnight_ ," huffing. 

Louis' astounded. Just downright astounded but it's so funny that he can't help himself when he starts to laugh, either out of hilarity or shock, he really doesn't know, but it's all the same. Louis just simply cannot believe. Harry turns over like he's trying to act sly about it, trying not to get caught still awake when he just made a big deal about 'taking a nap,' which really only translates to going to sleep, given the time, and that makes Louis laugh harder. "What are you laughing at?" He demands quietly, brows furrowing. 

Louis rolls his eyes, calming down just a bit. He eyes over at Niall's bed, which he could probably sleep in if he really wanted, but, Niall brought a girl home last night. Or he wanked, whatever the unspecific sock on the door suggested, and Louis knew for a fact that Niall didn't wash his sheets because Niall never washed his sheets and Louis really wasn't keen on sleeping in three months of dry and slept in cum. 

He turns back to Harry, sighing and flicking off the light as he comes over to his bed, the moon through the window bringing in enough light that he can see Harry's eyes blinking up at him as they adjust to the light. "Budge the fuck over." Louis says, gently despite his words, with a stupid fond, drunk smile that he shouldn't be smiling on his lips. 

Harry sniffles, looks at Louis with consideration for a moment long enough to make Louis think he's about to be rejected from his own bed, with a mate he slept with (and blew the mind of) not too long ago, but then Harry's moving over and pulling up the covers for him, looking at him cautiously, eyes red and watery still, but forgiving. Louis sighs in relief, quickly toes off his shoes and pulls off his jeans before getting in next to Harry, as close to the edge as he can, turning his back to him. 

"Night, Harry." He says tiredly, "Don't kill me in my sleep, please." He chuckles nervously, because he really doesn't know what to expect. 

Harry's silent in response and Louis thinks for a moment that perhaps he shouldn't have turned his back on him and that he should definitely not sleep until he's positive Harry has, but in the midst of his thoughts he feels Harry's arm snaking around his gut and pulling him into his body rough enough that Louis gasps a little for air, eyes widening, though it's obvious the action wasn't malicious. "Goodnight," Harry hums, sweetly, kissing the back of Louis neck and resting his chin on the cleft of his shoulder. 

Louis gasps. "No _cuddling_ , Harry, that's not my _thing_." He groans, trying to push out of Harry's grasp but Harry holds him tighter.

"You want my thing." He huffs childishly.

Louis pauses, rolling his eyes. "You were terrible with your thing."

Harry's quiet for a moment, and then, "Fuck you."

"You already _have_." Louis says, frustrated and trying to squirm out of Harry's clutch with even more force, but Harry's pulling him closer and Louis' gasping.

Harry groans, breath puffing against Louis neck and raising goosebumps. "We'll talk in the morning."

And, with that, Louis' too damn tired to fight anymore or think of anything witty to say, so he huffs and waits for Harry to fall asleep, falling asleep quickly after to the sound of Harry's light snoring. 

 

When they wake in the morning, Harry's eyes are puffy and bloodshot and burn, and Louis takes the piss on him for it. They fight for the last urinal in the bathroom, as, of course, strangers who sleep together stick together the morning after, and Harry pisses on Louis who's not fond of it, but Harry cackles and Louis kind of leans up and kisses him stupidly, and Harry's surprised enough that he stops laughing, looking at Louis with pleasant amusement, grinning and leaning in to kiss him back and even harder with a, "Let's go on a date, tonight, right now, all day," which Louis cannot simply decline. Harry owes him, anyway, for taking up his bed the night before, and Louis agrees with a tired smile.


End file.
